


Eyes never closing, time's forever frozen

by mintyrosetea



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, Escort, Falling In Love, Heartache, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Prostitution, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 05:46:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9421214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintyrosetea/pseuds/mintyrosetea
Summary: What if Viktor Nikiforov wasn’t a world famous ice skater, but instead an escort? An escort that Yuuri Katsuki hired the night before his short programme at the Grand Prix in Sochi?





	1. Chapter 1

This wasn’t something that Yuuri did.

This wasn’t something that Yuuri should do.

So, why was he sitting in his hotel room, the night before the Grand Prix short program competition, waiting for an escort? It was dumb. It was illegal (he thought it was at least?). It was pricey. How had this happened? Was it because his boyfriend in Detroit had broken up with him? Because he had spent the last months in the void that graduating university created?

It had happened that morning, as he had laid in the same hotel room after arriving the day before. He had been flipping through his phone, watching his Instagram feed. Watching his friends enjoying themselves the night before, perhaps he had checked up what his ex was up to (which perhaps made him hide under his pillows, feeling his heart ache).

It had been easy. Too easy. Yuuri worried that police were going to burst through the door to arrest him. A webpage, too structured, so many people, so many prices, things they were willing to do. It had been slightly overwhelming. It made him feel dirty, watching the boys, most half nude or in provocative poses.

Yuuri had felt discouraged, and almost closed the tab, but then a picture caught his eye. “Vitya H” smiled against him with icy blue eyes and grey, beautiful short hair in a nice, clean hair-cut. Vitya H was older than him by a couple of years, but more gorgeous than Yuuri could ever wish to be. He wore a black turtleneck under a heavy jacket, and looked more as if he was taking a picture to a dating site, and not selling sex.

 _Discreet_ it said. Yuuri liked that word. It had been on many other profiles, but he liked it a lot on Vitya’s. He had written to him.

 _Hi, are you free tonight by any chance? // Saito_  (he had made up the last name, not wanting to reveal himself. It was such a sleazy site.)

It had not been many minutes before Yuuri refreshed the page again and there was a reply.

 _I am. :) What time would you like to meet me? Please text me._ There had also been a phone number, and Yuuri had considered taking a shower and hitting the rink, forgetting all about it.

But he decided to be courageous. _Hello, Saito here. What about 9pm?_

_9pm is great. Where then, mister? ;)_

Yuuri sat on the edge of his bed. He shouldn’t reply, he knew that he should stop this nonsense. But he thought of the man, about his hair, that honest smile. And he had written down his hotel, as well as the room, and pressed sent.

_Lovely! I’ll see you then, Mr. Saito._

And that was it. Yuuri had spent his day practicing. Going to the gym, running, practicing his routine. His coach had said that he was doing well, but he still didn’t land his jumps. Yuuri wanted nothing else than to win. Perhaps having sex was just what he needed?

It wasn’t until the evening he thought about it again. When he was standing in front of his coach and some other skaters, declining to come with them for dinner. Instead, he walked to the closest ATM and cashed out a hideous amount of money. He wasn’t sure of how much he needed, as he wasn’t sure of how long it would take and the price had been by the hour and… Yuuri just wasn’t sure.

And now he was sitting there, waiting for the escort to show up. For there to be knock on the door. He had ordered something from the room service hours ago. He had showered and dressed in fresh clothes again. And he was waiting.

The clock struck 9. Yuuri stared at the door. He should be here by now. What if it was a scam? (How could it be a scam if they didn’t exchange any money?) Yuuri himself would have been early, he thought. Then again, he wasn’t an escort.

9:04. Nothing

9:09. Nothing

9:14. Noth-no, there was a knock on the door.

Yuuri froze. _Fuck_. He shouldn’t open, he should just let the man leave, pretend that it never happened. But, he soon felt his feet touch the carpet, and they moved towards the door. His hand grabbed the handle, pulling it down and the door swung open. And outside in the hallway was Vitya H. With grey hair, and equally gorgeous smile as on his pictures. He was taller than Yuuri, but not by much. “Mr. Saito?” the man’s voice was sweet as well.

“Yes, please come in,” Yuuri said and opened the door even more, letting the man inside. The blonde had his coat draped over his arm, and he was wearing a simple, dark green long armed sweater, and a pair of black pants. They weren’t tight, but still showed off his ass.

“I’m sorry I’m late, I was held up.” The man hanged up his coat as if he lived there, but Yuuri said nothing. “You’re younger than I imagined!” Vitya said and smiled at Yuuri, now the costumer. “Much cuter though.”

Yuuri blushed at the comment. “D-do you want the money now or later?” The hotel room wasn’t large, it was rather small. There was a queen-sized bed, closer to the windows looking out over Sochi, a desk with a chair, a TV, and then the tiny hallway with the only closet and adjoining bathroom. But it was enough for one person. For two, it became a little bit crowded.

Vitya’s smile was kind and gentle. “It depends on you. Do you know how much time you want to spend? A quicky? An hour? More?”

Yuuri shook his head. “This isn’t something I usually do.”

“I’d suggest two hours then.” Vitya moved a bit closer to him, and Yuuri realised that he didn’t feel as intimidated as he had thought, just a bit bashful. “I’d appreciate to get paid first, and if we go on for longer, we’ll settle that later.”

Yuuri nodded eagerly. “Yes, alright.” Vitya slipped passed him and sat down on the bed as Yuuri found his wallet, picking out the money, which now seemed so little. Vitya seemed to be worth a lot more? Would he be in a bigger town?

“What should I call you? Mr. Saito? You can call me Viktor, or Vitya.”

Yuuri looked back from his task. “Oh, Yuuri.”

“Yuuri… you’re Japanese, aren’t you?” Viktor said delighted. “I like sushi and all that.” The man laughed and Yuuri found himself being enchanted by the smile.

“Yeah, Japanese, but right now I live in the US.” He handed the money to the man, who took them. He did not count them, or at least Yuuri didn’t see him do it.

“The US? Are you a businessman?”

Yuuri laughed. “No, nothing like that.” Yuuri fell silent, not wanting to talk about himself.

Viktor patted besides him, noticing how shy the other man was. “Come sit down.” Viktor was experienced, he knew that first timers were usually a bit shy, and cute guys such as Yuuri had to be guided a little bit. “You’re young, I’m not used to that.” The man winked at him and Yuuri finally sat down next to him.

Almost immediately, Viktor placed a hand on his thigh. “Tell me what you like, Yuuri, and if you don’t like something. I’ll do anything you want.” The blue eyes met the black orbs. It was like looking into the ice that had been Yuuri’s mistress for years now. His friend that he had always been able to confide in. Viktor’s eyes were beautiful.

“I like most things.” Yuuri said.

Viktor slipped off the bed, placing himself between Yuuri’s legs, looking up at him with a smile on his lips. “Let me help you relax.” The man’s left hand still rested on Yuuri’s thigh, but the other was busy with the zipper of his jeans. Yuuri’s breath was already getting heavier and he felt a blush spread over his cheeks. His jeans were beginning to feel uncomfortably tight. Viktor’s hand finally undid the pants, and his hand moved into his boxers, grabbing his cock, moving his hand up and down a couple of times. Viktor freed Yuuri’s cock from the fabric. It had gone from soft to hard embarrassingly quick. “Impressive.” Viktor smiled up at the man.

“Thank you.” Yuuri said, but blushed when he realised how weird that sounded.

“You’re adorable!” Viktor exclaimed and without breaking eye contact, he leaned in and sucked on the head, his tongue skilfully moving over the slit. Yuuri looked down in sheer amazement, his mouth slightly open as he watched the man’s pink lips slid over his cock leaving a slick layer of saliva over it. The blonde stopped half way, and let his tongue work as his head began to gently bob up and down over his cock, as he brought his hands up, one of them fondling the balls, gently squeezing and pressing, the other firmly jerking the man off.

Yuuri didn’t stop looking at the man, and sometimes Viktor looked back up, and when he did, he smiled at the younger man. The ice skater let out a few moans and the escort between his thighs let his cock slip further into his mouth, he heard him gagging as he slipped down his throat. Viktor was close to burying his nose in the black, cute pubes before he pulled back again, his lips sliding off the cock with a loud pop. “Quite nice, isn’t it?” Viktor said cheerfully, using both his hands to spread his saliva over his cock.

“Y-yes.” Yuuri grunted and nodded.

Viktor let go of his cock to pull his own shirt off. Yuuri noticed how his hair was still perfect. “Do you want me to suck on it some more?” he asked with a flirty smile. Yuuri only nodded. His hands gripped onto the sheets as Viktor’s pink lips once more slid over his cock. Viktor seemed to notice and after a while he reached for Yuuri’s hand, grabbing it, and for a moment holding it, before he placed it on his head. He smiled up at the black-haired man as he sucked his cock, trying to go deeper than he had before.

Yuuri was very cautious, he didn’t hold onto the hair that hard, but soon his other hand gently stroked Viktor’s neck, while the other was nestled into the silver locks. “I want to fuck you.” Yuuri blurted out, the blush spreading over his cheeks. Viktor looked up at him again, but continued to suck his cock for a while before moving away.

“Anything for you, handsome.” Yuuri wished he had said nothing, and when Viktor moved to his coat, he wished that he was back between his legs again, but when he saw what he returned with, he felt his heart beating. “I always use a condom, is that okay?” Viktor leaned in over Yuuri and kissed his chin, leaving a wet mark after himself. Viktor dropped his pants to the floor, and as he was stepping out of his socks and shoes, he pulled at Yuuri’s t-shirt, but Yuuri pulled at it, wanting to keep it on. The man’s hand quickly stopped and instead just stroked his body.

“Yeah, of course, of course.” Yuuri nodded profusely.

“Some people don’t want that, but you can never be too careful, right? I knew you would get it, you seem very reasonable.” Viktor pushed back Yuuri into the soft bed and handed him the condom and the packets of lube. “You have had sex before right?”

Did he seem that inexperienced? Yuuri blushed heavily. “Yes, just not with…”

“A prostitute.”

“I was going to say with someone as pretty.” Yuuri noticed how the man suddenly stopped stroking him, but just for a moment.

“That was sweet of you, you’re quite a smooth talker, aren’t you?” Viktor laid down next to him, his hand once more on Yuuri’s cock, pumping it in his hand. His lips kissed Yuuri’s cheek. “I feel like I’m going to be very well taken care of tonight.”

Yuuri looked at the man’s now naked body. It had happened so quickly. It was lean, and perfectly white, except for a few bruises on his hips, and a slight redness to his knees. It made Yuuri remember what he was doing, that Viktor was only playing the perfect date, when in fact he had probably slept with someone earlier that evening. And then Yuuri looked down at his crotch. It was a nice cock, and Viktor was shaved, but it was completely flaccid. “You’re not hard?” The words slipped out of Yuuri’s mouth out of habit.

Viktor looked back up at him, as he had busied himself kissing Yuuri’s neck. “Do you want me to be?” His hands left Yuuri’s body and he stroked his own cock. “I’ll do anything for you, Yuuri, I just wasn’t paying attention.” The escort smiled at Yuuri and crawled closer to him. “Stretch me, please, Yuuri.” Viktor’s voice dripped with eroticism and he moved away from Yuuri, getting on his knees but burying his head in a pillow.

His ass was perfectly smooth. Viktor was fit, almost as fit as the professional athlete who moved to kick off his jeans before moving up to Viktor, kneeling behind him. He poured some clear lube in his hand after ripping a packet open, and with most care tried to enter a lone finger into his body. It worked without much effort and Yuuri let another one enter. He took it slower from there, just enjoying the sounds that Viktor made. The escort wasn’t acting, or it didn’t sound like it, and soon his cock was as hard as Yuuri’s was. “Does it feel alright?” Yuuri asked cautiously as he had managed to get a third finger inside. He knew to look for that oval shape, the bulb of nerves that made Viktor buck his hips and moan into the pillow.

“More than alright Yuuri, fuck me, please fuck me.”

Yuuri wasted time fumbling with the condom, rolling it over his cock. Viktor impatiently wiggled his hips and when Yuuri placed his hands on the blonde’s hips, Viktor whined out loud. Yuuri was lost in the moment. He wasn’t having sleazy sex with an escort, but rather making love to a gorgeous man. He entered him, it was tight and warm. Viktor moaned and as Yuuri thrusted, Viktor rocked his hips with him.

Yuuri’s hands didn’t stay on Viktor’s hips, but stroked his ass, his thighs, his back, his shoulders. After a while, Yuuri stopped and pulled at Viktor who graciously followed him, laying down on his back, and Yuuri continuing to thrust, feeling how Viktor’s legs wrapped around his waist, and his hand moving underneath him. “It feels so good, Yuuri, fuck,” Viktor moaned.

“Yes, fuck,” Yuuri managed to say before Viktor placed a hand around his neck. Their eyes met and as they were moving in unison they looked into each other’s eyes until Viktor came. His whole body contracted. The legs around Yuuri’s legs pulled him closer, his hole tightened and his eyes closed as cum spurted out of his cock.

“Fuck, yes, Yuuri,” Viktor moaned post orgasm, a panting mess. Yuri continued to thrust into him, and he wasn’t far from coming either. Viktor embraced him as he came, and Yuuri kissed his lips, a kiss that Viktor joined in on.

They stayed like that for a while, before Yuuri carefully slipped out, pulling off the condom and disposing it. The blonde man still laid spread in his bed, his breathing uneven, and he stretched out his arms for the skater. “Come,” he asked and smiled, even though his eyes were closed. Yuuri crawled up with him and Viktor rested his head against his shirt. “That was nice.”

“Yeah, it really was.” Yuuri admitted.

Then they laid there in the silence until Viktor began to move. “I think I should get going,” he said and threw a look on the watch on the bedside table.

“Already?” Yuuri felt almost disappointed.

“Well, we can meet again, can’t we?” Viktor sat up in the bed and looked down on him.

Yuuri looked at the gorgeous man. “I guess.”

“Please call me. I liked this a lot.” Viktor gave the man a kiss on his forehead, before he crawled out of the bed and got dressed. Yuuri watched him as he did, and Viktor did a silly little dance when he got his shirt on again. Viktor fixed his hair while looking in the mirror above the desk, and then smiled back at Yuuri, watching him through it.

They said goodbye, and Viktor told Yuuri to stay in bed, as he then left the room, the door shutting behind him. Yuuri had a shower and then fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Viktor Nikiforov had grown up poor. He had always been poor, and he was proud that instead of falling into substance abuse and an abusive “romantic” relationship with a pimp, he was able to provide for himself. He knew it wasn’t legal, and he didn’t know if he enjoyed it. But he could tend for himself.

As he laid on his back, moaning as the beer belly belonging to a French tourist bounced against his thighs, he thought back on earlier that evening, about that nice Japanese man. He had been so gentle, so caring. They had kissed and it felt as if they were teenagers experiencing their first love. Or at least that had been what it felt like to Viktor. He didn’t think about the man in front of him, and even if he sucked his dick with the same enthusiasm, he didn’t feel the same. His cock didn’t get hard and he didn’t come. The Frenchman spurted his cum all over his face, as he jerked off over him, and Viktor simply sat on his knees, eyes closed and mouth open. “I liked this a lot!” Viktor repeated the same words, but he had truly meant it earlier. Now it was just empty works.

“Stay tonight.”

“Then you’ll have to pay, sir.” Viktor got up looking for a napkin.

“Yes, yes, I’ll pay. Tomorrow, do you want to go to the skating competition I told you about?” the man was apparently a fan of the sport. Viktor knew that there was a competition in town, he had seen the posters after all, and there was a lot more costumers willing to meet in hotel rooms, as they weren’t hiding from their families.

Viktor crawled up next to the man, throwing the paper he had used to wipe his face into the bin. “It’ll cost a lot.”

“You don’t think I can pay?”

Viktor shook his head and laughed. “I trust you.” They were after all in a large suite in Sochi’s grandest hotel. The clock the man was wearing ran so smoothly and his clothes was tailored to fit over his gut. He was in his fifties, and not to bad considering all things that could be wrong. “I just want some arm candy. It’s the men’s short program. Do you watch figure skating?”

“Not as often as I’d like.” Viktor said and smiled kindly at the man. He had never watched figure skating in any other way than glancing towards the screen if it happened to be on. “But I find it beautiful when I get to watch it.” He gently trailed his hand over the man’s skin. He wished he had gotten to touch Yuuri like this, that he had taken his shirt off. “It’s still going to be the same hourly rate, even if we don’t have sex.”

“Don’t you do public?”

Viktor looked at him. “It’s a bit risky, isn’t it?”

“I won’t get caught.” The man stroked his hair roughly. Viktor continued to smile. Well… it would be exciting, wouldn’t it? Something new.

“Anything for you, Henri.”

Viktor sucked his dick once more before they went to bed. The man grabbed his body in their sleep, but Viktor didn’t mind. It was his job after all. Viktor slept peacefully and kissed the man good morning, his hands tending to the man’s crotch before the man was even fully awake. Viktor kissed him gently, first using his mouth to please him, but soon found himself bouncing on top of the man, who held onto his hips, grunting. Viktor, who did all the work, but was used to that, moaned enthusiastically, playing along in the man’s fantasy that _he_ wanted this, until the man came. They showered together and went out.

The man bought him a new coat and shirt “that you can wear today”. Viktor sucked his dick in the dressing room of the high-end store, sitting on his knees and watching himself in the mirror as his head bobbed back and forth and the man’s fingers were buried in his hair, making sure to lock him into positions that he liked. But he did get a good coat over it.

If the man wanted eye-candy, then that was what he was going to get. Viktor looked stunning by his side, and while they didn’t look like a couple, Viktor liked to think that they looked less like an escort and client, and more like a… couple with benefits. They ate lunch together, and Viktor ordered the most expensive thing without feeling ashamed. The man could afford to pay for it. They took a taxi to the Iceberg Skating Palace, which didn’t look more like an iceberg than the last time.

They were seated on the first row, behind the judges. The place was already mostly full, and yet they didn’t get to sit down. Not that Viktor cared, but it would be nice to simply spend sometime doing nothing. “Mr. Bouchard!” a stranger’s voice said. Viktor tried his best to not look as an escort, they had decided on the story if someone asked.

“Karpisek, old friend!” Henri stood up and leaned over the fence to shake the man’s hand. “How’s Christophe?” Viktor sat still and greeted the man when attention turned to him. It was probably obvious for an “old friend” that Viktor was bought rather than there for his own sake, because no questions were asked about him.

“He’s doing well, very excited, ready to go. I’m sure he’d like to meet you though.” The bald man smiled widely at Henri.

Henri chuckled. “Well, well, I’d love to meet him too, I haven’t seen him for ages. Come on Viktor, let’s meet a world champion.”

Viktor had known the man was rich, but he had not thought that he would as influential as he turned out to be. There was a lot of talk about the Olympics as they made their way through corridors. Viktor walked next to Henry, keeping to his side and trying to look as if he understood half of the words that came through their mouths. Viktor knew better than to ask. They reached a locker room, and Viktor found himself staring at a naked body. A good naked body, but still naked. “Christophe, get dressed, look who I found!” Karpisek and Henri simply laughed and the man, the skater, probably very comfortable with his sexuality, draped a towel around him.

“No, Henri Bouchard!” the blonde skater said. “What have I done to get this honour?”

“Don’t think I won’t judge fairly,” Henri chuckled. “Viktor, meet Christophe, world championship twice over. He’ll win today I tell you, not a doubt in my body!”

“Hello, handsome thing,” Christophe only waved at him and Viktor was left with his hand reaching for a handshake that didn’t come. “How did you meet that gorgeous thing, Henri?”

“I think we all know how,” Henri admitted, making Viktor losehis face. Even if he took pride being able to take care of himself, and when he thought of himself, he didn’t feel disgusted because of his profession, he didn’t like being outed as a prostitute in front of others, especially not world champions. He tensed up a little bit, but kept the smile on his lips.

Karpisek laughed, and Christophe, the man that had achieved more than Viktor could ever dream of, smiled. “I might steal him from you, Henri.”

“I’ll get him for you if you win, he’s quite good.” Viktor opened his mouth as to protest, but changed his mind. He was a commodity, he was for sale.

“I wouldn’t mind sleeping with a world champion.” He looked into Christophe’s hazel eyes, tilting his head ever so slightly as he smiled at him.

Christophe smirked back at him. “Well, meet me at my hotel in two days.”

Viktor smiled and placed his hand on Henri’s shoulder. “Sure, and Henri’s paying?”

“For as long as Christophe wants.” Henri laughed whole heartedly. Human and their emotions were still so strange to him. “Now, let’s leave him alone to get ready, you’re number 3 right?”

“Yes, after Katsuki and Altin.” They chatted a bit about some Chinese skater, and then Henri and Viktor left, leaving the man alone. And they stepped out in the hallway, almost stepping into someone.

“Excuse me!” Henri said, but when he saw that it was a skater he had crashed into, he began to apologize. Viktor stood silent as he stared into dark brown eyes.

“Viktor?” The words spilled over Yuuri’s lips automatically. He had missed him since he had watched him leave the room the night before. And now he was here? At the rink? With… with an IOC member? Yuuri wetted his lips, holding his phone closer to his chest.

Viktor felt confused and stared into the beautiful face, he wasn’t wearing the cute glasses, and his hair was neater, and instead of the casual clothes, he wore sports gear. And skates. He was a skater. He was going to compete today? Viktor didn’t know why he felt surprised, but he did. “Do you two know each other?” Henri asked, and Viktor could hear the amusement in his voice.

“Yes, Yuuri dropped his wallet yesterday, and I ran after him.” Viktor’s lie came fast as it was one he had said many times. He was discreet, and he wanted his client’s to always feel safe with him. He didn’t know if Henri swallowed the lie, but he hoped so. Yuuri was silent. “I didn’t know you skated!” Viktor smiled and let go of Henri, grabbing Yuuri’s shoulder. “I’ll cheer for you!”

Yuuri looked at the man Viktor was with. He understood why Viktor was there, it was painfully obvious and what was worse was that his coach spoke to the man, leaving Viktor and Yuuri on their own. Yuuri couldn’t help but think of the Russian’s moaning voice, and he wondered if the two of them had slept together yet. “Thank you, Viktor.”

“I didn’t know you skated, why didn’t you tell me that you were in a competition!?” Viktor said before he controlled himself. Yuuri had not said anything because he wanted to be anonymous. And Viktor was ruining that for him at that moment.

“It never came up, really.” Viktor leaned in and hugged the boy. He had missed him too. He had felt something special with him. He… wanted to see him again. Much more than he wanted to see Christophe.

“Viktor, come on, let’s go back, Katsuki is the first to skate.” Henri’s voice was cold.

“Yes, yes. Good luck Yuuri, I hope you win!” Viktor had to hurry after his client, but he looked back at Yuuri, waving at him.

Yuuri could feel his heart beating faster. “Bouchard is an IOC member,” Celestino looked after him and the young man who had draped himself over Henri. “One would think they would have higher moral than hiring escorts.”

Yuuri felt his face draining of all colours. “Yeah.”

“I mean, that poor man, imagine it, having to laugh at Bouchard’s boring jokes.” Celestino laughed. “Well, come on then Yuuri! Let’s go!”

 

* * *

 

It had been so beautiful. Viktor had not been able to tear his eyes from the graceful, gorgeous man on the ice, who moved as if he was the music. Viktor had clapped the hardest, and forgotten that he wasn’t there because of Yuuri Katsuki.

Their eyes had met when Yuuri had bowed to the judges. Viktor had smiled towards him and waved.

“Is that good?” Viktor asked as Yuuri scored over a hundred points on his short programme.

“Yes, very,” Henri said slightly annoyed over Viktor’s sudden infatuation with the Japanese skater. “But Christophe will score higher.” Viktor nodded and soothed the man by holding his hand.

 


	2. Chapter 2

_It surprised me seeing you today... I was wondering, do you want to meet again? Tonight?_

_I’d love to, Yuuri. :) I liked your skating, it was very beautiful._

_I did well, I might have a chance at winning?_

_You’re top 6 of something, right? That’s impressive. Where do you want to meet? And when?_

_What about a restaurant?_

_I’d love that. What about London Bar? At 7?_

_Yes, London Bar. 7. I’ll see you there._

_I liked your hair today. <3_

Yuuri wore his hair slicked back, but he felt conscious about it. Was he really trying to impress the Russian? He wasn’t sure, but he knew that he had skated well today, better than he thought he would have, and he felt nervous. He wanted to eat, but the bar didn’t have that much stuff that he liked. When Yuuri got nervous, he ate a lot. He wished that he could lay in his room, eating unhealthy snacks, or maybe find a place that sold katsudon? If there was such a place in Sochi. But he also wanted to meet Viktor again. He didn't know if it was a good idea, but he had been the one to reach out after all. Yuuri had been early, and he felt like he had been waiting for ages before the man came through the doors. Yuuri would have noticed him even if he wasn’t looking towards them, staring, waiting for them to open. Viktor Nikiforov was stunning. He was wearing a simple grey hoodie, over a white button down shirt, and tight, black pants. The escort looked just like everyone else in the bar, no one could think that he didn’t belong. That he was different from them.

It was dark, and they were playing soft, jazz music. It seemed like a calm, nice place, but not really the place that Yuuri wanted to go to that evening. But, since Viktor had suggested it, it was alright. Either way, Viktor didn't look like the person that would enjoy eating something from a kiosk. The skater felt out of place in his black turtleneck and the matching black pants. He had dressed up, and he liked the feeling that Viktor had done the same. That they had dressed up for each other. “Viktor!” Yuuri raised his hand and waved at the man to come over to him. Viktor lit up and moved closer to the two low leather armchairs with a small table between them. It created a comfy setting in front of the windows overlooking Sochi.

“Hello.” Viktor sat down with him. “What are you drinking?”

“Oh, just water.”

“Nonsense, let’s have champagne.” Viktor said and smiled at the man.

Yuuri looked at him, at the smiling eyes, and then he nodded. “Yes, champagne.”

Viktor raised his hand, and a waiter came over. Viktor ordered for them, champagne and some bite sized things to eat. Yuuri liked hearing him speak Russian, it made his voice different, a lot deeper. He also liked that Viktor felt comfortable enough to take charge of things. It made Yuuri able to relax a little bit more. They sat silent for a few moments as the waiter left them, but then Viktor spoke. “So, Yuuri Katsuki, figure skater.”

Yuuri laughed. “I guess that’s why I liked that you were discreet.”

Viktor smiled kindly, but he felt nervous. “I won’t say a word to anyone,” he promised. “I’m Viktor Nikiforov, fair should be fair. Although, I am not a famous ice skater.” He knew that his name didn’t matter that much, but he wanted Yuuri to know it.

“I wouldn’t say I’m famous,” Yuuri laughed nervously.

“You’re in the top six? That have to be good?”

Yuuri shrugged. “It’s my first time in the Grand Prix Final, usually you get in pretty early and I…” The waiter interrupted them, coming back with the plate of small nibbles, and the champagne. There was a very familiar pop, and soon they had two glasses in their hands. Yuuri grabbed a blini with some salmon on top of it as soon as he could. It tasted really good and complimented the champagne. For a moment, Yuuri worried that Viktor had picked something very expensive. _I can afford that though_ , he thought to himself.

“I’m confident that you’ll win, you did so well. I don’t remember half of the terms, but it looked amazing.” Viktor laughed. “Of course I’m not an expert, but you did well today, didn’t you?”

Yuuri felt himself blushing, but he nodded at the man’s words. “Yes, I’m currently at 3rd place.” Yuuri swirled his glass around. “I’ve practiced a lot and… I’m happy you liked it. Have you watched skating before?”

“No, never, I guess I should since I’m Russian, but sport doesn’t interest me.” The blonde shrugged. “I guess I’ll have to from now on.” Yuuri blushed heavily at the man’s flirty words. It really felt as if he was wooing him.

They talked about everything. Yuuri did most of the talking, he spoke about his life back in Japan, about his life in Detroit with Pinchit, that he didn’t know what to do with his life now. Viktor didn’t share that much information about his own life, only that he was originally from much further north than Sochi, and when Yuuri spoke about his favourite food, Viktor told him what he liked to eat. They talked about dogs, about museums and art. And somehow Yuuri ended up telling Viktor about his first time. They giggled like school girls the whole time. “I was a trembling mess, I think I lasted two seconds inside of him. I was so nervous. And then I didn’t try again until I got my boyfriend in Detroit…”

Viktor’s smile faded for a short moment. “You have a boyfriend?” Why did that worry the blonde? He had slept with married men, married men with kids his own age even. But, it did bother him that Yuuri... had someone?

Yuuri was a bit tipsy, but Viktor was used to the alcohol, they had not had that much. “No, no, not anymore.” Viktor felt relieved, but he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as if him and Yuri could have a relationship with each other. Viktor sighed a little bit. He was getting to involved, letting his feelings get in the way. But, in a way: why was that so bad?

“I don’t have anyone either, obviously.” Viktor grabbed the bottle and poured more into their glasses. “I’ve never really had anyone, it’s hard with this job. I mean…”

“Well, why don’t you quit?” Yuuri had to be quite drunk to say such a thing.

Viktor chuckled. “It’s not like I chose to do this and if I wanted I could get a job if I just handed in a resume.”

Yuuri realised what he had said at that moment. His parents had run the onsen, and while they had not been rich, they had managed to raise Yuuri well. Yuuri had never lacked anything growing up. When he had wished for a Persian cat, just like the one that Christophe Giacometti had, he had gotten it. He had never been told no if he needed to sharpen his skates, if he needed a costume. His parents had always paid for him and he sheepishly realised that the man in front of him probably didn’t have such luck. "I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you!” Yuuri felt like an idiot.

“It’s alright.” Viktor said and grabbed Yuuri’s hand. “I’ve been doing this for… over eleven years now.”

“11 years? H-how old are you?”

“26.” Yuuri looked terrified when he realised the age of which the man in front of him had started. He had been a kid, darn it. Viktor saw it, but continued to smile, his fingers intertwining with Yuuri’s. “It just happened. I had already slept around and when a man paid, it felt okay. It was so much money at first, back when I still lived at home. They kicked me out once they found out though. Then it became a necessity, and when the Olympics came around I moved down here and just… yeah.” Viktor emptied his glass. It was ages ago. “You weren’t in the Olympics, were you?”

Yuuri sat silent. “No, no I didn’t qualify.”

Viktor felt that he had told the man too much. “Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say all that. Let’s go back to your hotel!” Viktor got up from his seat, acting that he had not been affected by the conversation. Viktor realised he was still holding Yuuri’s hand, and he smiled to him, squeezing his hand. Their hands stayed close together after they left. Yuuri paid for them as Viktor fetched their coats. Or well, his own coat and Yuuri’s large, soft jacket. And their hands joined each others again.

They were silent, but there was nothing that had to be said. They just held each other’s hands, walking slowly towards the hotel. The streets were busy, but it was December after all. They walked close to each other and once or twice one of them said something, commenting on the other’s appearance. “Your hair is really pretty tonight, Yuuri,” Viktor said as the crossed a street. Yuuri squeezed his hand.

Viktor leaned towards Yuuri in the elevator, and Yuuri fumbled with his card. But the door clicked open, a few melodic beeps. The two men stepped inside and the door gently closed behind them. Almost before the clicking sound reached their ears Viktor threw himself on Yuuri, kissing him passionately, and Yuuri returned the kiss, as they fell into the bed. “Fuck me again, Yuuri, please, I need you. I want you to.”

Yuuri kissed the man as Viktor struggled with unzipping Yuuri’s jacket. They both wanted each other, they were both slightly drunk. “Did you fuck that man? Pritchard?” His question was sudden, but Viktor didn’t avert his gaze.

“Bouchard.” Viktor said. “Yes. Many times.”

Yuuri looked into the ice blue eyes. They looked pained. “He seemed slimy. “

“He’s a douchebag.” Viktor said. “They’re all like that, all old, all gross and thinks that because they have money, they can do what they want.” Viktor pulled at Yuuri, hugging him tightly, feeling his athletic body through the thick, soft jacket. “And I let them, I let them do whatever they want if they wave enough money in front of me. I’m horrible, Yuuri, I’m so sorry.”

“You’re not horrible.” Yuuri brushed his hands through Viktor’s silvery hair. “You’re perfect.” Yuuri smiled down at the man. “I’ll make you forget about him.”

“Yuuri,” Viktor breathed and the zipper finally slid down. Yuri moved away from him, but his lips still touched Viktor’s. They both undressed in frenzy, their lips hunting each other’s. Viktor was quicker than Yuuri who ended up standing there with the turtleneck and boxers on. Viktor pulled at it, wanting him to remove it, just as Viktor had pulled the white shirt over his head in the same movement as the hoodie.

“I’d like to keep it on.” Viktor’s hands stopped immediately, falling down to the Japanese’s hips. Yuuri didn’t think about it at first, but then it dawned upon him. Viktor knew what his clients wanted and he adapted his own expectations based on what they wanted. If his clients didn’t want to take their shirts off, Viktor wouldn’t press them even if it was something that he wanted.

Why couldn’t he show himself naked to the man? Viktor had been completely nude in front of him yesterday. The skater closed his eyes and pulled the shirt off in one movement, tossing it towards the chair. Viktor smiled and let his hand trail over the man’s abs. He was fit, and smooth, there was no hair or cold fat. Viktor loved it.

“I’ll suck your cock,” Viktor said and prepared to slip down on the floor, but Yuuri pressed him back. Viktor looked down at the arm pressing against his shoulder.

“You don’t have too,” Yuuri said, their eyes meeting.

Viktor said: “I want to suck _your_ cock.”

Yuuri swallowed, his cheeks turning warm. “I want to suck yours too.”

Viktor crawled into the bed, and Yuuri followed. They kissed and stroked each other, their limbs tangling up in each other’s. Viktor moved first, leaving a trail of kisses over Yuuri’s chest and stomach before turning around. They giggled a bit as Viktor did so, and clasped their hands together for a moment, but soon let go.

Viktor went to work as eagerly as yesterday, and Yuuri soon followed, much happier to see that Viktor was hard this time. “Yuuri!” Viktor moaned, surprised by the care put into the blow job. He had to stop himself and just moved his hand over Yuuri’s hard cock. He was used to someone at most sucking on it, slobbering saliva on it, sometimes maybe a tongue got involved. But Yuuri, Yuuri was doing it with care. He was sucking Viktor off, his lips engulfing his cock, doing his best. Yuuri wasn’t pretending to be nice, he didn’t put a half-hearted attempt at trying to imitate some porno. Viktor soon regained composure and returned to Yuuri’s cock, giving the best blow job he had ever given. He didn’t stop until he felt Yuri trying to pull away. “Stop, Viktor, I’m…”

“Sorry,” Viktor sat up again and looked down on Yuuri. He straddled him and bent down, kissing the man underneath him.

“You don’t have to apologize.” Yuuri stroked his hair, placing it behind Viktor’s ear. They kissed again and Viktor reach for his new coat, which still laid on the bed, and once more produced lube and a condom. Viktor prepared himself, even if Yuuri eagerly tried to help, as they kissed each other. The black-haired man jerked the blonde man’s cock throughout, making Viktor moan into their kisses. “Yuuri,” he whispered before handing him the condom, which Yuuri got on quicker this time around.

Viktor’s hand gently grasped Yuuri’s cock, and he moved himself until he felt how it prodded against his hole. He lowered his body down, and while it was a bit uncomfortable, Viktor didn’t show that as his hips lowered themselves over Yuuri’s cock, which buried itself deep inside of him. Viktor looked down on Yuuri, who still had a hand on Viktor’s cock, the other draped over his own forehead. “Do you like it?” Viktor began to roll his hips, slowly, passionately.

“Yes, Viktor, I love it.” Viktor continued to do what he knew, but it was different. It was different with Yuuri’s naked body under him, his hand firmly jerking his cock in the rhythm that Viktor moved in. Which was painfully slow, but it only prolonged the sweetness of the moment. Viktor wanted to keep this moment for forever. Would they ever meet again? In three days, Yuuri would leave Sochi, and never come back unless there was another competition. And Viktor would go back to doing what he was doing now.

It would be as if they never had had been. And Viktor knew that this was the reason he always played sweeter than he was, why he never went back to people who had made his heart flutter. But Yuuri did more than so. Yuuri let him slowly roll his hips, Yuuri listened to Viktor’s moans, not to fill his own ego, but because he wanted to know Viktor liked it.

They had no future together, not outside this room, and Viktor didn’t want to let him go. Yuuri didn’t seem to think about the same thing, because he soon became restless, and began to buck his hips, and with a swift movement managed to sit up (which was impressive) and gently pushed Viktor back so they ended up in the same position as yesterday. Viktor cupped Yuuri’s face and kissed him, refusing to let go as Yuuri began to properly fuck him. He wrapped his legs around Yuuri again.

They moved quicker and quicker, losing themselves in each other, both of them wanting to bring the other one pleasure just as much as they wanted to feel it themselves. They moaned each other’s names, phrases and things that they wouldn’t remember once they finished. Yuuri came first, but Viktor followed quickly afterwards.

Viktor hugged Yuuri’s head to his chest. “Stay right here, please,” he whispered.

And that was just what Yuuri did. They moved away from each other for a moment, Yuuri disposed the condom and they got under the covers, but Yuuri buried his head in Viktor’s chest, and they laid like that for a long time, before falling asleep.

 

* * *

 

They awoke the next morning by Yuuri’s phone ringing. Viktor pulled the sheets over his head, in his sleep annoyed by the sound. Yuuri shot up and answered it, his voice still soaked in sleep. “Yuuri!” his coach yelled. “Do you know what time it is?!”

“What?!” Yuuri yelled back and before he realised that he unless he had slept for 30 hours, he couldn’t have missed the Grand Prix Final, he felt panic pound in his chest.

“It’s noon, you have to come to the rink right now.” Yuuri apologized profusely before hanging up. He dumped back into the bed, where Viktor laid, now awake. He looked even more beautiful on his stomach, his hair messy and looking up on Yuuri from the white sheets.

That was when the second shock hit Yuuri. It was noon. He had been with Viktor for… seventeen hours, and that meant he owed him… fuck. _Fuck_. “Viktor, I don’t have 4 grand!”

Viktor looked at him, amused. “Behind on student loans?”

“No, I mean… I don’t have 4 grand, I’ll pay you back of course but I don’t have 4000 dollars right now, I have to call my bank.”

Viktor smiled as he understood what Yuuri was talking about. He pulled the covers over their heads. “I don’t really see you as a client.” Viktor kissed those soft lips. “You owe me nothing. Except dinner tonight.”

Yuuri looked at him. “Deal.”

 

* * *

 

They had had a light dinner and was walking around the streets of Sochi. They held hands. Viktor showed Yuuri a shop he adored, which sold the cutest covers for phones and other little things. “This would suit you!” Viktor said and held up a light blue case with black skates on them. He had bought it for Yuuri. It was the first time he had spent money on a client. But Yuuri wasn’t a client any longer. Yuuri had put it on immediately, and they had giggled about it.

It was a cold, dark night, and the stars were shining over their heads. It was the perfect night for a romantic walk. None of them had been on many, Viktor had never been on one where he didn’t need to feign interest, but could simply enjoy every moment and be completely honest.

They reached an ice rink, open to tourists and locals that wanted to skate. Viktor pulled at Yuuri. “Skate for me!” he laughed.

Yuuri looked at the ice. “Let’s skate together,” he suggested, looking up on the taller man.

Viktor looked at the ice, he couldn’t skate worth a damn. He had never tried, but he remembered playing hockey on football courts someone had poured water over. “Sure, if you hold my hand.”

“It’ll be harder for you if I hold your hand.” Viktor rolled his eyes and they made their way to the little kiosk, where Yuuri rented skates for them. Yuuri put his on quickly and Viktor struggled a bit with the laces. “I’ll help you,” Yuuri said amused and got down on his knees, tying the boots for him.

Yuuri was so secure on the ice. Viktor reached out for him. “I’ve changed my mind!” he laughed as soon as he stood with both feet on the ice. “I don’t want to skate.”

“Come on!” Yuuri said and grabbed the man’s hand. “Bend your legs, lean forward…”

“Lean forward? I’ll fall!”

Yuri laughed together with Viktor. “Don’t walk, you’re not walking, it’s like sliding on socks?”

“You’re insane, you devoted your life to a sport where you slide around on your socks?” Viktor teased him, but he understood what he meant and pushed his leg backwards. It made more sense than walking, that was for sure.

“See!” Yuuri smiled and let go of his hand, skating next to the older man. “You’re doing great!”

“Yeah, I’m a natural,” Viktor rolled his eyes and reached after Yuri’s hand. But fact was that he got a hang of it rather quickly, and could skate around with Yuuri rather well. Rather being an important word. Yuri showed him how to stop, and then how to turn. “I’m scared!” Viktor said when Yuuri demonstrated how to do eights. “Well above me, Yuuri-sensei!” he joked but watched the man with awe. He was so graceful, and beautiful.

“Yuuri-sensei?” Yuuri looked back at him and pushed his glasses back up. “Come here, Nikiforov, and I’ll teach you how to do an eight.”

“It looks like you’re going fast,” Viktor complained as he skated towards him, half forgetting how he stopped, so Yuuri grabbed a hold of him.

“You have to go fast.”

“Spare me, Yuuri-sensei.” Yuuri looked up at the smug grin on Viktor’s lips.

“No.” Yuuri said and showed him one more time. Viktor tried to repeat it, and while he managed the first turn, he fell on the second. They laughed at it. “For not being a skater, you’re not half bad.”

“Don’t lie to me!” Viktor laughed. “Come on, amaze me instead.”

Viktor leaned against the rink as Yuri did a small, very cute routine. It was only a few spins and some foot work, but Viktor cheered for him. Yuuri skated towards him, and they kissed on the ice. “Should we go back to your place?” Viktor suggested.

Yuuri looked up on the man. “I don’t think I should…” he fell silent and a blush spread over the man’s cheeks.

Viktor smiled. “We don’t have to fuck, we can just rest together. If you want to.”

Yuuri wanted that and they returned their skates before hand-in-hand walking back to the hotel, they couldn’t help kissing each other from time to time. “Will you come and watch me tomorrow?” Yuuri asked as they stepped into the lobby.

“I don’t… have a ticket. I guess you need tickets?”

Yuuri smiled. “I’ll get you a ticket, my family couldn’t come after all.” Viktor nodded enthusiastically, he would love watching Yuuri tomorrow. He would love cheering for him from the crowd. He wanted Yuuri to search for him in the crowd of people. They went up to the room, which felt more and more like theirs instead of just being Yuuri’s. “I’ll grab a shower.” Yuuri said and kissed Viktor’s forehead.

Viktor kicked his shoes off and laid down in the bed, and he checked his messages. Some from new clients, but he didn’t want to reply to them, nor read that they wanted to meet him that evening. He belonged to himself that evening. But there was a message from Bouchard. Viktor reluctantly opened it.

 

_I’m thinking 9 hours for Christophe? It’ll be a nice gift for him, when he wins. Agreed?_

Viktor had forgotten about that ice skater. Fuck. He didn't want to have sex with that man, not after today, not now when he knew Yuuri. Surely they had to know each other. They were in the same competition? The same sport? It would be awkward. It wasn't only that though. Viktor didn't want to sleep with anyone else than Yuuri.

 

_I’m sorry, dear, but I’m already booked for tomorrow._

_What? But I thought we had an agreement?_

_I thought you all were joking. I doubt that the skater was serious either._

_Come on, don’t be difficult. 12 hours then?_

Viktor looked down on the screen and then back towards the dark hallway. He could hear the water from the bathroom. But being paid twice the usual amount? The winter months were his busiest months, when the tourist flocked around, to skate and ski. To watch competitions like this one. Summers were harder, but if he just charged less, he could get by with the money he saved up during the winter.

But if he said yes, he had to leave Yuuri. He couldn’t sleep with his competition and pretend that everything was all right. He would never be able to date Yuuri either way. So should he pass an opportunity like this?

 

_12 hours sounds more reasonable, Henri! Tell me the time and place._

_After the competition, there’s a party. Wear a suit._

_Perfect! Thank you Henri!_

Viktor put down the phone in his lap, once more looking towards the bathroom. He didn’t like either of them, neither Bouchard or Christophe, not like he liked Yuuri. He turned the phone on silence and watched some TV as he listened to Yuuri showering. “Is it okay if I shower too?” he asked as the man stood in front of him in the white, fluffy towel wrapped around his hips.

Yuuri nodded and Viktor showered before crawling down next to Yuuri. He kept Yuuri close to himself again that night.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Viktor woke up early, but he stayed in the bed until Yuuri’s alarm rang. He didn’t want to wake him up today, he assumed that Yuuri would need every moment of sleep. But when Yuuri did wake up, he stroked the black hair with his hand and smiled gently towards him. Yuuri smiled up at him, as he was resting against his chest. “Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning,” Viktor replied. “Are you ready for today?”

Yuuri stretched out his legs. “Don’t remind me.”

“Remind you that you’re going to win?” Yuuri chuckled and placed a lazy kiss on Viktor’s chin. “Or what? Are you planning on just a silver? Now, that would be a surprise.”

“Do you like surprises?” Yuuri asked.

“Love them.” Viktor continued to stroke the man’s hair. Then he remembered that he had something to tell him. It made him a bit more tense and he shifted around a bit, but still held onto Yuuri. “Look, Yuuri,” Viktor didn’t look at him, but instead stared towards the curtains, that let enough sunlight filter through that it played with any reflective surface in the room. “I don’t think I can go today?”

Yuuri looked at him, wondering why there was such a sudden change. “What do you mean, Viktor?”

“Something came up and I…” Did he really want his last conversation with Yuuri to be based on a lie? No, not really. “Well, you know, a client.” Viktor got up from the bed. As he was further away from Yuuri, it felt a little bit easier. He gathered his clothes and began to dress again. Yuuri was completely silent and Viktor looked back on him. “You’ll do good today, though!” Viktor tried to sound encouraging.

“I thought that we were going to…” Yuuri’s voice didn’t sound as happy and sweet as it usually did.

Viktor pulled the sweater over his head. “It’s not like it would have worked out.”

“I’ll pay you, whatever they’re paying.”

Viktor dragged his finger along the desk. “I don’t want you to pay for me.” He looked back at Yuuri. For a moment the ice blue eyes stared into his, before the Russian looked away again. He never wanted Yuuri to pay for him again. Part of him wanted to repay him for their first meeting, but that would perhaps just be petty. Viktor rubbed his face. “It’s nothing personal.”

“You have an odd definition of personal.”

“Well, it’s nothing against you. I like you.”

The silence that followed was terribly uncomfortable. Viktor pulled on his pants and grabbed his coat. He sat down on the bed to tie his shoes. What could he possibly say that would make this better? There was nothing that he could say or do that could make Yuuri feel even remotely happier. There was nothing he could tell to himself either. He had gone too far and this was the price that they would have to pay for that.

Should he ask him to not leave a bad review on the site? No, Yuuri wouldn’t do something like that. He wanted to kiss him one last time, but that would probably just upset both of them. “Good luck, win for me, yeah?” he attempted a smile before left. The door clicked behind him.

And that was it.

 

* * *

 

Viktor opened the door to his apartment for the first time in days. It was his though, and it was in a safe clean neighbourhood. It was better than the place he had grown up in. He placed the groceries on the kitchen table, together with the suit he had rented.

It was so quiet. When Viktor had gotten the place, he thought that he would enjoy being alone for the first time in his life. And he had loved it. He had been able to listen to the music he liked, dance whenever he wanted to. He didn’t have to sleep on a mattress on the floor, he had bought a bed. He could bring home dates if he wanted to.

Just that there had never been any dates. And it had soon become lonely. He had thought about getting a dog, but he realised that he wasn’t home often enough for that. And he wasn’t too fond of cats. So he had continued to live alone.

He had gotten used to it, not thought too much about it. But now, when he had met Yuuri… he just wished that he could have brought him there. That perhaps they could have had something more. He laid down on his sofa. He turned on the TV, but he only had the standard channels. He didn’t care that much for it, but thought that it could be a good distraction until he had to get ready.

They were airing the Grand Prix Final.

At first, Viktor thought that it would be idiotic to watch. Why would he want to be reminded about Yuuri. But as with most humans, curiosity took over. Yuuri was going to be the last one to skate. What was the harm of watching?

So, he watched.

 

* * *

 

Otabek Altin was the first skater. Yuuri watched his performance in awe. It was like watching a caged animal, as if Otabek fought with himself to not jump out from the rink. It was raw skill, skill that perhaps could be a little bit more refined, but technically the program was difficult and still flawlessly executed.

Next was the Chinese Cao Bin. Yuuri watched the amazing jumps, and the graceful art that the man put on display for 4 long minutes. It made him nervous. He wanted to do something as equally beautiful? But could he?

Yuuri had cried when the door had closed. He wasn’t proud of it and he had had a warm shower to try and hide how teary his eyes was. It had never occurred to him, the realities of Viktor and his relationship. It had just been the in the first few days, and maybe the escort had been right, that it wouldn’t have worked out. Yuuri would never had been able to be with a man who’s work it was to sleep with others.

Yuuri rose from his chair when Jean Jacques Leroy stepped out on the ice. He had to go and prepare himself. And he had to try to forget about Viktor. Not just for the moment, but for forever.

 

* * *

 

Viktor had to begin to get ready. He had to shower, shave all over, and he watched Leroy’s performance with a clay mask on his face. It was fun and interesting, one could really tell that Leroy was enjoying himself. Viktor didn’t get a lot, but he thought that the jumps looked great, and when the Russian commentators said “ooow, another mistake!” he realised that he had no clue what he was looking for.

What was the score? Viktor sat down even though he didn’t really have the time, and he wasn’t sure he understood it. Leroy was first, then Bin, and third was Otabek. Or at least that was what Viktor thought. Then it was time for Christophe.

Viktor didn’t feel like watching.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri just heard Christophe’s final score. An amazing 301.46. He felt himself sweating. “You know what you’re going to do,” Celestino said encouraging the boy. “You know this, you know you can land the jumps, you just need to show him.”

Yuuri looked up at his coach. “Him?”

Celestino looked at his student with a puzzled face. “I said them, but sure, show him too.” Celestino had no clue who Yuuri was thinking about, and as long as it wasn’t Pinchit (because he didn’t want any lovers quarrels when they were meant to be practicing) he would be fine with whatever.

“No, sorry, I just misheard.” Yuuri grabbed a napkin, wiping his face with it. He was sweating. He was nervous. If only Viktor was… no. Viktor didn’t matter, Viktor wasn’t sitting in the audience. Viktor was busy fucking some stranger. Because that was what Viktor did.

“Let’s go then.” Michele Crispino was skating, and Yuuri could feel his nerves bundling up inside of him as he watched the man from the side of the ice. Celestino talked to Yuuri, but the skater didn’t listen.

Michele started to screw up. Yuuri wasn’t sure if it made him feel better or worse. Less or more nervous? Yuuri wondered what Viktor would have told him?

Probably something silly. Or good luck.

 

* * *

 

The Italian-person got the lowest scores. Viktor was sure of that at least. He sat on the backrest, staring at the TV. Not because he cared about the Italian’s tears, but because he knew that they would soon be showing Yuuri.

And there he was. In black pants, a white, flowy shirt and a light blue vest. His hair was beautifully slicked back. He was handsome. Viktor fell down into the sofa again, his eyes not moving from the screen. It took time, it felt like several minutes passed as Yuuri was leaning over the rink, talking to his coach. But then he finally moved away from him and took a few first skates towards the centre of the vast, white ice.

Viktor wished he was there.

Yuuri reached his arms out. And the music played.

A step backwards, but no, he was going forward. The speed came from nowhere, only to slow down again. The presenters were talking, but Viktor stopped listening. A triple… loop. He landed it perfectly. Yuuri set of again, crossing the ice, turning like he had showed Viktor how to do yesterday. A Salchow, also a triple. Viktor wasn’t sure if that was good, and the people said that he corrected the landing a bit.

He jumped into a spin, stretching his leg out. It was beautiful and Viktor looked at him, wondering half how he did it, half if he would ever get to see it in person. It continued as Yuuri sat down in the spin, then stood up again, reaching for his leg, holding it behind his head.

Yuuri danced over the ice, with the lightness and grace of a ballerina. No, more like how leaves moved in the wind, but instead of being left to the elements, Yuuri controlled each step, each movement. It was beautiful, it looked so easy and Viktor remembered how heavy he had felt on the ice yesterday. How did Yuuri make it look so light?

There was another jump, timed perfectly with the music. Viktor felt the goose bumps on his skin as he watched Yuuri skate, as he attempted another jump, a triple axel. He fell. Viktor’s heart stopped, but the skater was up and back on track quick, his movements as graceful as before, soon taking off in another jump, which he landed perfectly.  Another one, two in a row. It was fantastic, it looked so easy, so graceful. He moved over the ice, jumping, spinning, all in time to the music. He landed the two last jumps too, and set off in a gorgeous, almost wild array of movements. But each one was graceful, in rhythm with the heart aching music.

Yuuri screwed up a jump, but then there was another pirouette. And then, it was over.

Viktor sat still. He watched the re-run. He watched Yuuri and the man who he had seen him with yesterday, waiting for their scores.

This was it.

Yuuri was last out, depending on what he got now, the competition was over. Viktor didn’t understand all the points, the technical score and all such things. But he did understand the numbers that presented themselves on the screen. And  he understood what 2nd place meant, and he understood that Yuuri was covering his face out of happiness as the coach hugged him close.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri had showed him, hadn’t he? Sure, the man was perhaps not in the audience, perhaps he wasn’t ever going to find out, but Yuuri had showed him that he was a good skater. An excellent figure skater. Sure, he couldn’t beat the world champion, but he had landed jumps he had never been able to do before. He had thought about the man as he skated, thought about his beautiful eyes, his kind smile. He had missed him. He still missed him, and perhaps that longing had been portrayed in his skating. Or perhaps, he had finally gained some confidence in himself again. Perhaps the few days together with Viktor had made him realise that life was still unexplored, that just because his boyfriend had broken up with him and he had finished his university studies, life was still out there for him. A life filled with love and more skating, and whatever he wanted to put in it.

He had won silver. Silver! Any skater dreamed to win gold of course, but Yuuri was just as happy with a silver, it was after all the first time that he had advanced to the Grand Prix Final. His mother was so proud of him, he called her as soon as he could. He blushed furiously when she said that they had had a public viewing party and how everyone had cheered for him.

The black-haired man wept tears of joy, trying to hide in the bathroom. Some junior skater berated him for crying over a silver, but Yuuri didn’t care. Because next year, he would be back, and he’d win gold.

He was so happy, and he had never felt prouder of himself than when the round silver medal hanged heavily against his chest, when he joined Christophe Giacometti and Otabek Altin on the podium to take pictures.

He had won.

And he was going to continue to win.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t until Viktor stood outside the grand building that he realised what a mistake he had made. If this was a party, a ball, to celebrate the ice skaters achievements, then who would be there if not the silver medallist himself? Viktor had pulled a hand through his hair, considered going back home. Fuck, it was as if the last bit of logic he had left.

And he would have left if it wasn’t for a familiar voice, calling for him. “Viktor, there you are!” Bouchard’s hand placed itself low on Viktor’s back. Much lower than he would have liked right now. “You’re very handsome tonight.”

Viktor smiled at the man. “And so are you, Henri.”

“I wouldn’t mind having you myself.”

Viktor looked up at him and leaned in. “Why don’t you?” he said. “Let’s go back to your place, who cares about this party?” Viktor would do anything to avoid meeting Yuuri again. And to avoid breaking Yuuri’s heart as he would have to flirt with the world champion the whole evening.

Bouchard just chuckled. “I love the Grand Prix balls!” he said, but his hand slid even lower down. “There’s nothing in the world that would make me miss them, not even you, I’m afraid.” Viktor smiled delightfully. “And I have to remember that you’re here for our winner Christophe’s sake.”

“That’s true.” Viktor said and followed the man as he began to walk up the stairs.

Viktor blended in perfectly, even though he had never been at a party like this before. The grandest party he had been too had been someone’s grandfather’s 90th birthday. He recalled that he had thought it was so fancy, that the family really had gone all out, renting a place and probably spending weeks doing all of the food.

The food here was from a catering service. The decorations were tasteful. There was an ice sculpture and as much champagne as one could drink. Viktor didn’t approach the Grand Prix winner at first. He spent his time with Bouchard as it was easier to talk to the man than having to face the skater. He worried that he would be rude to him because of Yuuri. But once he stood in front of him, he realised how easy it was to slip into the same old role. “Hello there,” Viktor said.

The dark blonde man turned around, and Viktor could tell that he recognized him. He had singled him out when the winner was finally alone. “My, oh my, I’ve forgotten your name, but I remember that handsome face.”

“Viktor.” The Russian smiled at the compliment. Christophe didn’t look bad himself, and Viktor would have been excited about him just three days earlier.

“Are you here with Bouchard?” Christophe asked, stopping a waiter and exchanging his champagne flute. Viktor did the same.

The blonde shook his head and leaned over Christophe’s shoulder. “I’m here for you.”

“Bouchard did do it then?” Christophe laughed and turned his head so their eyes met. Viktor nodded, taking a sip of the champagne. “I’d appreciate if someone asked me before buying me escorts.” Christophe chuckled and moved a bit closer to Viktor. His body wasn’t bad, and he was a bit taller than Viktor. If he had never met Yuuri again after meeting Christophe, Viktor would have been thrilled with the prospect of getting to sleep with the man, to spend an evening like this with him. But now? It was hard to even act.

“I’ll do my best to make you forget I am one.”

“Well, it’s still a bit…” Christophe gestured his hand, indicating that he thought the whole thing was a bit awkward. “I’m sure he’s living out some perverted fantasy and will want to hear all of it from you afterwards.”

“Your secrets are safe with me, Christophe.” Viktor slid his leg between the skater’s and leaned in for a small kiss. But the skater stopped him. Viktor looked up at him, surprised to be stopped at such an early moment, but withdrew himself from the man.

“Ah, let’s not do that,” Christophe said. “We can hang out, flirt a bit, but I have a… sort-of-boyfriend waiting for me at home.”

Viktor smiled his first real smile that whole evening. “You do?” he asked.

“That’s why you should ask before hiring escorts for someone.” Viktor laughed and moved away from the man, but still paid him attention, just not a close, sensual attention. “But, you’re handsome, I’m handsome, I’ve won gold. Let’s have fun tonight, alright?” Christophe emptied his glass. “Plus, I want you to get paid.”

Viktor laughed. “Let’s dance!” he said, and pulled at Christophe’s hand. He would more than gladly be his friend.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri danced together with Sara Crispino and her brother. Mostly Sara, but her brother always hanged around like a bee around a flower. They were dancing a foxtrot, and Sara moved much more gracefully than Yuuri did. “I can only waltz!” he complained jokingly to the woman who waved away his complaints.

He was having fun. He was celebrating.

And then, their eyes met.

Light blue eyes meeting dark brown ones, connecting across the room.

Yuuri knew who they belonged to before he saw his face. Why was he here? The blue eyes stared back into his for a moment, and then they were gone. But Yuuri didn’t feel like dancing any more.

Yuuri wanted to know who Viktor was with, but the dancefloor was too crowded. He couldn’t make his way across it even if he had wanted to. “Are you alright Yuuri?” Sara asked cautiously as she watched her dancing partner turn whiter.

Yuuri looked at her. “I think I saw someone?” he said silently and then looked away fom her. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, maybe you should sit down though, you look pale.” Yuuri nodded and they moved towards the tables, were Yuuri sat down. Everyone had wanted to talk to him that evening, he had felt great, as if the world was finally opening to him. Yuuri felt fulfilled, as if he knew where he was going in life. He had thought about Viktor, of course, but it had been different. He had started to become thankful, and he had thought that he should text him, suggest that they met up again.

But when he had seen him again, he was reminded of what Viktor was doing there. That Viktor had probably gone back to spend the day with Bouchard. What if he had been in the audience? Yuuri leaned over the table. He remembered what Viktor had said two days ago, how disgusted he had sounded over the fact that he had to sleep with a man like Bouchard. And yet he was doing it again.

Yuuri’s heart ached in his chest. He felt bad. He felt so bad for the man. He felt bad for them. “Yuuri, do you want some water?” Sara asked and he felt Michele’s hand on his shoulder.

“No, no I’m fine!” Yuuri insisted but Sara still insisted on it. Perhaps a glass of water would be nice, and he was left on his own for the first time that evening. He leaned over the table, sighing heavily.

He could see him in front of him when he closed his eyes.

Those blue eyes that had looked into his with eagerness.

 

* * *

 

“You’re so sombre, did something happened?” Christophe handed Viktor a glass after the man had suddenly pulled Christophe off the dancefloor. Viktor sat down on a chair, looking down at the floor. He had almost forgotten about _him_ with Christophe around.

“Chris, I have been acting so unwisely for the past days.” Viktor took the glass and watched as Chris sat down next to him.

The skater ran a hand through his hair. “Tell me! What is this horrible thing you’ve done?”

“I’ve fallen in love.”

“With a client?” Christophe sounded intrigued. Viktor smiled sheepishly and nodded. “Not me right?” Christopher teased him, Viktor grinned at him and then looked across the crowded room. “Who then?”

“Yuuri…”

“He’s like 14, Viktor?!”

Viktor looked back at Christophe. “What? No, he’s 22? Yuuri Katsuki.”

Christophe laughed, crossing his legs as he moved in the chair. “Right, right! I thought you were talking about someone else entirely.” Viktor smiled at him. “Yuuri isn’t with someone that I know of? Go for it!”

Viktor shook his head. “I can’t.”

“So what? You’re going to be unhappy your whole life just because you fuck men for a living?” Christophe smirked at him. “Maybe that’s Yuuri’s kink.”

“Stop it, Chris.” Viktor laughed. “He lives in the US, I live here. He’s a silver medallist, I’ve never achieved anything in life. I barely went to school.”

Christophe nodded. “I get it, you think you’re not worthy enough.” Viktor didn’t reply, just twirling the glass in his hand, watching the golden, bubbly liquid spin around. “You’re handsome, you seem intelligent enough, you care for him, you speak English fairly well. Why wouldn’t he want to be together with you?”

“Well, you’re not sleeping with me because you have a boyfriend, right?” Viktor looked up at him for a short moment. “I wouldn’t be able to be faithful to him.”

Christophe nodded slowly, placing his now empty glass on the table. He understood Viktor’s dilemma, and he had no solution to it. “But why don’t you let Katsuki decide if he can deal with that or not?” Viktor was yet again silent. “Or do you feel that you have to be the one to save him? He’s an adult, not a child.” Christophe smiled gently. “You’re planning your whole life together, Viktor, just let things go the way it goes.” Christophe stood up. “Okay, I’ll go over to him, and congratulate him, then I’ll mention you…”

“Are you insane?”

“Shush, I’ll mention you, I’ll talk shit about Bouchard and that you really want to get away from this party.” Christophe nodded to his own words. “You’ll be in Yuuri Katsuki’s bed quicker than you can say ‘ _rendez-vous_ ’.” Viktor grabbed his shirt. It was as if they had been friends for ages.

“Don’t you dare.”

“Thank me later.” Christophe said with a wink as he freed himself from Viktor’s grip. The Russian was left staring after the man as he disappeared into the crowd.

Viktor emptied his glass before he stood up to follow him. What a stupid, stupid idea.

 

* * *

 

Christophe moved across the crowd, not stopping to greet anyone, but flashing a few smiles. He had been surprised that the rather unknown skater from Japan had been able to get a silver medal. It had dawned on him why when Viktor had spoken.

In French, figure skating was called _patinage artistique_. Artistic skating. It was the same in German; _eiskunstlauf_. Ice art. The English name made it sound as if it was a mathematical process, some kind of logic you could follow. Of course, there was technical scores, things you had to do, but there was a reason that it was considered art.

Christophe didn’t consider it a sport, but rather an outlet for his creativity. When he stepped onto the ice, he created a piece of art. He was more like Michelangelo and less like Monet, but still. He created something and when he did, he put his soul into it.

To have that, one must have felt something recently. You had to have something to dedicate your art to, you had to feel that someone cared. And Viktor was that kind of person, the kind of person that artists would dedicate their work of arts too.

Christophe got why.

And if he didn’t get to play match-maker that evening, he would forever fault himself. (Although, perhaps he could use that feeling for next season?) “Yuuri Katsuki!” Christophe said and placed a hand on Yuuri, who still laid over the table. “How much have you been drinking?”

Yuuri looked up at Christophe. He was a great skater, he had one poster of him together with others hanging in his room. He had cheered for him in the last Olympics. “Christophe?” Yuuri sat up. “Not much, I’ve just been dancing too much.”

Christophe sat down next to him. “Congrats on the silver.” Yuuri looked down at his lap. “You came from nowhere, quite a dark-horse.” Christophe waved towards someone across the room. “Did you found some inspiration?”

Yuuri shook his head. “I guess I just… finally managed to believe in myself. To not be so nervous.”

Christophe nodded. He could imagine that a man like Viktor could have that ability. He had seemed an expert at talking after all. “I’m here with someone. Have you heard of Henri Bouchard?” Christophe stopped yet another waiter, getting both of them more champagne even if Yuuri tried to protest.

“I have.” Yuuri said, remembering the name very clearly. “Seems a bit like an idiot.”

“A rich idiot, and don’t say that in front of him.” Christophe sipped on the champagne. It was kind of amusing, wasn’t it? “Anyway, he hired me an escort.”

Yuuri’s face betrayed him, even Yuuri knew that. He had tensed up and his eyes had opened. He looked stressed just from the word escort. It was probably unrelated, right? If he had decided to get an escort… then surely it wasn’t that uncommon? “I see.” Yuuri said.

Christophe continued to smile. “Bouchard is really a horrible man, I don’t doubt that he thought it through much, and now I have an escort hanging around me when the both of us would rather be at different place. I have a boyfriend you know?”

“Oh?” Yuuri said.

“Yes,” Christophe didn’t let him ask any questions. “Either way, he’s a gorgeous man, that’s correct, and while we agreed on having a nice evening, I feel like there’s something keeping him, you know?”

Yuuri would later look back on that evening and think about how obvious it was that Viktor had told Christophe about Yuuri, how obvious it was that Christophe tried to ease the tension between them. But right then he didn’t think about it and either way, Viktor stepped out of the crowds, causing Yuuri to not think at all. He looked good in a suit too.

“Viktor!” Christophe said. “I was just telling Yuuri about you, he won silver today.”

Viktor had wanted to protest, but instead he turned to Yuuri. He couldn’t help but to smile at him. “Hi,” he said.

Yuuri smiled back at him and then looked at Christophe. So that was what Viktor had been doing today? Had he been in the arena? Probably not. Yuuri’s eyes flickered between Viktor and Christophe, before saying hi back.

“Viktor sit down! Or at least congratulate him.”

Viktor smiled whole heartedly as he realised that Yuuri wasn’t angry with him. “I do like surprises.”

Yuuri blushed. Viktor did too. Christophe smirked as he considered his job done. “You two look cute together. You can have him Yuuri, you’re not dating anyone, right?”

Yuuri shook his head. Christophe got up and patted Viktor’s shoulder before disappearing into the crowd of people. “I saw you. On TV. It was beautiful.”

“Do you want to dance?” Yuuri stood up.

“I do.” Viktor said.

They were both drunk, and both dancing more enthusiastically than many, especially once the music changed to a more modern variety. Viktor laughed at every corny joke that Yuuri made, Yuuri blushed every time Viktor reminded him of how cute he was. They clung to each other, Viktor at some points not being sure if they were holding each other up, or if they just gripped at each other to harshly. Yuuri grabbed Viktor’s tie to pull him down for a kiss.

Viktor was happy. And Yuuri was happy too.

They could have kept on dancing throughout the night, if there wasn’t for Bouchard. The man saw Viktor, the escort he had paid, not doing the work he had asked for. He was drunk when he made his way over the dancefloor, grabbing Viktor’s shoulder. “Hey, you!” he said. Viktor realised what the issue was quickly, and for a moment he was scared. He thought of bad reviews, of not getting paid, of being kicked off the site for good. “I’m not paying you for this?!”

Viktor wasn’t used to messing up, and part of him wanted to smile gracefully and apologize to the man. Yuuri took Viktor’s hand and thought about the words Viktor had said about him. “Well…” Viktor cleared his throat. “He didn’t want me, I can’t force myself on people.”

“Go back to him, convince him.” Bouchard’s voice was cold. “Or you’re coming with me.”

Viktor looked at the man. “No.”

Bouchard slapped him. It was a hard, quick slap, and he tried to grab Viktor’s arm. Viktor took a few steps backwards, but curled together slightly. It pained Yuuri to see, and instead of joining Viktor in his retreat he stood still, staring back at the Frenchman.

People around them reacted to the sudden change of the mood, as well as the sound of Viktor being slapped. “I think you should leave, Bouchard.” The voice came from an organiser of the Grand Prix Final, and soon a judge joined in. “Might be for the better.”

Bouchard scoffed. “I’ll cancel the payment, you whore,” he said before turning around, leaving them. Viktor put his hand on his cheek, and moved his jaw in pain.

“You’re okay?” Yuuri asked him. Viktor nodded, he was mostly embarrassed, both for his and for Yuuri’s sake. People around them didn’t seem to be asking Yuuri why he was with a prostitute though, so Viktor calmed down a little bit more. “Maybe we should leave too?” Yuuri suggested.

“It’s your party,” Viktor said with an attempted smile.

Yuuri cupped his cheeks with both of his hands, standing on his toes to give Viktor a kiss. “Let’s leave.”

It wasn’t surprising that they ended up in each other’s arms. Yuuri’s hands were buried in the silver locks as soon they closed the hotel door. Viktor on his knees in front of him, Yuuri leaning against the door. They didn’t even make it to the bed, and when Yuuri couldn’t take it any more, they hastily undressed. “Fuck me this time.” Yuuri asked as he laid down in the bed, Viktor only grunted, not wasting any time. They kissed each other constantly, barely giving each other time to breathe. It was sloppier this time, and Yuuri hurried Viktor along when he thought that he took too long preparing him.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Viktor complained when Yuuri told him to fuck him.

Yuuri moved his legs so that they rested on Viktor’s shoulders. “You won’t.” Yuuri’s fingers grabbed locks of hair as Viktor fucked him. They became lost in the moment, they were noisier than they should be considering it was 2 am and they were in a hotel.

It didn’t matter, they were the only ones who mattered.

“I’ll quit.” Viktor’s sentence came unexpectedly.

Yuuri opened his eyes. “What?” he asked, moving his hips as Viktor had stopped moving.

“I’ll get a normal job, for you, for us.” Viktor wasn’t sure how it would work out, but that was what he wanted.

Why was Viktor thinking so much when they were having sex? Yuuri looked up at the man. His own mind was devoid of any thought, and that Viktor was thinking about life, in complicated ways too, surprised him. Yuuri didn’t feel like discussing such things with him right then, and simply reached up to kiss him (god, he was flexible, Viktor thought). “I love you,” Yuuri said.

“I love you too,” Viktor said and it was the first time he had said it and truly meant it. Perhaps he had meant it back when he was 14, but with Yuuri, it was a different kind of love, not just a fourteen-year-old’s childish crush for the university student.

“Now, fuck me.” Yuuri wiggled his hips, impatiently waiting for Viktor to fuck him again. He felt so good, his legs draped over Viktor’s shoulder, laying comfortably in his lap. They were both too drunk to have sex really, but somehow they had managed to get this far. Viktor’s cock felt so good inside of him.

Viktor chuckled and leaned down to kiss him again, picking up the pace. They came, they rolled off each other and Viktor pulled himself closer to the man. “I’ll try at least. But… I don’t know if I’ll manage.” Yuuri nodded, half lost on what the conversation was about.

“You’ll do well,” he promised.

“And what about us?”

“We can skype, I can come visit,” Yuuri stroked Viktor’s hair, “If things work out alright, I could move my home rink to Russia.”

“What if I can’t get another job?”

Yuuri began to braid the grey strands of hair. “I don’t care what you do, but I have the feeling that you don’t enjoy it.” Viktor rested his head against Yuuri’s stomach, sighing. “It won’t be easy for you, but I think that change is inevitable.”

“It’s all I have ever done.” Viktor closed his eyes. “It’s all I’m good at.”

Yuuri let go of the man’s hair and stroked his cheek. “You’ll surprise everyone, I’m sure you will.” The black-haired man bent down and kissed Viktor’s hair. “Let’s go to sleep, we can talk more tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

“YUURI!” Yuuri heard his voice clearer than anyone else’s. Right now, all he wanted was to collapse on the ice though. Had he really landed a quadruple axel? Yuuri panted, holding onto his knees. The crowd cheered and clapped.

It had not been easy, not for any of them. Viktor had seen him off at the airport, holding his hand and giving him a light peck on the cheek. The first few weeks had gone well, when Viktor still had money to live on. He had searched around for a job while Yuuri continued to practice and enter competitions. The time-difference had been difficult, but they had managed with the help of Skype and Instagram.

When Viktor’s money ran out though, it was far too easy to slip into the old habits. At first, he tried to ignore it, becoming more and more desperate in finding a job. He could be hungry, he had been hungry before, and he didn’t mind having to save on electricity, but when his rent was due, when he risked losing his apartment, he caved in. It was the first time he felt filthy while doing it. And afterwards he made a frantic phone call to Yuuri who was working on his new internship in Detroit.  The skater had calmed him down, said that he didn’t care, that he understood. It did hurt though, but Yuuri didn’t consider it cheating.

It wouldn’t be a single occurrence. Viktor had trouble finding work in Sochi, were he was half known in hotels and restaurants. It didn’t help that he didn’t have any experience and his grades from school were anything but great. Yuuri comforted him over Skype as often as he could, and Viktor tried to spend his money as wisely as possible.

Then April came and Viktor managed to get a job as an administrator of an hotel. Basically, he worked in the lobby, but he liked it. He was charming, good looking and spoke English. It suited him. “The money is all right too, and I like it. I have to wear a suit, but that’s fine.” They had been eating Indian food together. Bought in separate parts of the world, Yuuri now in Japan (making the time difference even worse) and Viktor still in Sochi, but eaten in front of each other.

“I’m so proud of you!” Yuuri had said. Viktor was more proud of Yuuri, who had won several more medals that season.

They spent the summer together in Sochi. Viktor had picked him up at the airport and proudly showed off his home. He finally had someone to share it with, and while they argued about petty things, and Viktor thought that Yuuri got up way too early to run in the mornings, they had a nice couple of months together. It was much, much easier to say no when one of his old “colleagues” texted him, saying that they were looking for a third part in a threesome or if they could recommend someone too him as they themselves didn’t have time. Everything had been great that summer. Viktor deleted his profile, which he should have done earlier, and changed his numbers. Yuuri made sure to buy as much groceries as he could, feeling a bit guilty that Viktor sacrificed so much for him.

Perhaps they would move back to Japan together, or perhaps to St. Petersburg. It wasn’t decided. But today, Yuuri had just skated in the Grand Prix Final in Barcelona, being in the lead after the short program.

Perhaps he’d win, he wasn’t sure. He waved to the audience and those blue eyes looked into his. Viktor had a sign, Yuuri had seen him make it over Skype. “I’ll bring it to the final and I’ll wave it around, so you better win this weekend!” Viktor had said before the Cup of China (which Viktor followed from his laptop), showing him the sign with Yuuri’s name on it. It was still cheesy.

Yuuri picked up a stuffed animal and bowed to the audience. They cheered for him. Viktor cheered for him.

Perhaps he would win over the newcomer Yuri Plisetsky. Or he’d win silver again.

Winning Viktor had been a lot easier. 


End file.
